


The Blue Dragon

by Wordsareart



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Child trauma, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Major Character Death(s), Multi, Spoilers from the series
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-17
Updated: 2016-04-17
Packaged: 2018-06-02 21:45:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6583711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wordsareart/pseuds/Wordsareart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A bastard boy, hidden from the truth that could kill him...</p>
<p>One of the most powerful houses of Westeros, torn between two opposing sides of a war...</p>
<p>And a Targaryen heir, who refuses to take a backseat...</p>
<p>All men must die, with fire and blood.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Blue Dragon

Micah sighed as he stepped over the charred remnants of a cooking pot. He hadn't joined the city watch for this. In fact, he'd joined to prevent it, but it would have taken a much bolder man to voice his doubts to the Lord commander. A few feet away lay the skeleton of a small cot, a blanket of soot resting upon its rickety, wooden frame.  
  
Micah kept his eyes fixed on the charred oddments on the cottage's skeleton. The thatched roof and wooden slats had been turned to ash. It had been a homely place; somewhere for a man to rest his feet in his winter years or for a child to explore the joys of their spring. Micah kept walking, scanning the floor for something he could not find, nor remember what it was or looked like. There was copper pan, scattered coals from the fire, an arrow head of steel: Micah studied them all in turn, every detail of their frame examined. Anything to stop his eyes venturing to the ceiling. Drip, drip, drip into the fireplace. No this was wrong. Bile threatened to creep up his throat, and Micah mentally pulled himself together. If he was to last in this position, he would have to bare this. With a held breath and a slap on the face, Micah lifted his head.   
  
The body swung from side to side, the thin metal chord around the neck had both choked him and slit the throat, his silver hair crusted with filth, and blood ran down his soft, caramel skin. But it had still taken him 3 torturous minutes for the little boy to die. The thought of what his fellows had done to the boy made his death seem even merciful. Micah tried, but found that he couldn't look away. The boys lame eyes had caught his in a clouded trap, although he could not think why. They had been that way even before, clouded and dead. But the misty orb of indigo seemed to see Micah, see the carcus of his home.  
  
Their orders had been to leave none alive. They had ridden into the woodland and met the father. He had fought valiantly but was outnumbered twenty to one. They had dragged his dying self to the cottage and made him watch as he bled out, helpless. They had found the boy hiding behind a door in the barn, counting for a reason only the gods knew. They had dragged him in, kicking, screaming, crying for his mother who was brought in moments later. She truly was beautiful, her silver-blonde hair tumbled down her back, complimented by her soft eyes the color of amethysts. She'd put up quite a fight, kicking and scratching, but they's had their way with her all the same. All fourteen of them. But she'd never cried, and held that fierce look in her violet eyes the whole time. Micah had had his turn like the rest, but the feeling of guilt when he had met her eyes, he knew would always haunt him. She only broke when she was forced to watch what they did to her son. He hadn't fought back, or even scratch or kick any of them. They had hung him up on that cord afterwards anyway and sliced open the mother's belly when he had stopped twitching.

But they had not found the girl.  
  
The clamor of hooves upon stone declared the announced the scouts return, interrupting Micah's thoughts and he ripped his eyes away from the child's body.   
  
They should have returned hours ago. Rengol, the leader of the scouting party, was rebound for his tracking; and how far could a 4 year old girl get on a mare? Micah went to see what had taken them so long. The farm was set in the middle of a small clearing in the wood; its structures were limited to a cottage, barn and stable which were positioned in a triangular correlation to each other. There was also a large apple tree growing next to the barn, it's branches embracing the wooden beams, and littered the ground with fruit. It truly was a home, something the gods had never blessed Micah with.  
  
In the center of the three structures, the scouts stood before the commander, looking, to Micah's great surprise, to be empty handed. He quickened his pace; no, they  _must_ have caught her. How could five grown men be outrun by a little girl, and a Targaryen girl at that. Surely, the company of grown men had not been outrun by a skinny dragon-spawn girl on her equally scrawny mare. But sure enough, the commander Patric stood red faced and fuming before Rengol, suddenly looking as timid as a child caught stealing treats.   
  
"She vanished. An infant child escaped your grasps, captain, when she ran behind a Godswood and disappeared. How much of a fool do you take me for?"  
  
"Not at all, ser," Rengol stammered, his usually calm composure flung to the wind,"She just-"  
  
"Vanished?" Patric finished, disgust flecked across his word.   
  
Micah could hear no more. He strode across the clearing, towards the forest edge.

But suddenly he stopped dead in his tracks. There was the girl: mounted on a mare as black as night; her face dirtied, and cut down the side; and looking right back at him, fighting against the tears from filling her entrancing violet eyes, running down her soft, caramel skin. She stared at him, wide-eyed, and he stared right back, not moving a muscle.

"No," he thought to himself, "if I can do one thing in my life right, this will be it. There's been enough killing."

He raised a finger to his lips. The girl nodded, turned her mount around, and disappeared into the undergrowth.


End file.
